


rise

by sinequanon



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 02:43:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9362690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinequanon/pseuds/sinequanon
Summary: Nine-year-old Stiles is smart enough to keep an eye on Gerard Argent during the Hale family reunion, even if the guy is super creepy.





	

Stiles couldn't believe he was letting himself get dragged into this. What he needed to be doing was turning around and heading directly to his dad, not creeping along to get another look at this Argent guy, even if he was up to no good. Honestly, he didn't have time to deal with this problem--his mom had just died and Scott's dad was leaving and he had entirely too much on his plate right now to get involved in investigating the weirdest family in Beacon Hills.

He knew better than to ignore his gut, though.

And what was his dad supposed to do, anyway? Stiles didn't have any proof that this guy was a psychopath, other than some bad dreams that Sheriff Brown would brush off as Stiles being overly emotional, or eating too much pizza before bedtime, and he didn't want his dad to get in any trouble.

Maybe his mom’s death _had_ done something to him; it still didn't mean that Stiles was wrong, but it _did_ mean that he was going to have to take care of things himself this time.

Stiles had seen a dozen cars travel out to the preserve for the Hale family reunion this week, full of big, beautiful people with equally beautiful friends, and while the Hale family was just as attractive as it was strange, if all of these people were related, Stiles would give up video games for the next ten years. They might all have something in common, but Stiles was pretty sure that whatever it was, it wasn't DNA.  
  
Then Gerard Argent and his friends had come to town the same day as all the rest and started acting suspicious almost immediately. Stiles could ignore all of the supposedly new Hales, but this Argent guy just gave him the creeps. Stiles could totally picture him sitting at home, smoking a pipe and smiling at all of the dead-eyed animal heads on his walls. He could probably play the kindly grandfather if he needed to, but Stiles was fairly certain that the man didn't _want_ to.

Just like Stiles didn't _want_ to be listening to Argent's phone conversation while hiding behind a random car, but it still needed to be done. He couldn't make out everything that was said, but he definitely heard the words bullets, wolfsbane, kill, and sacrifice; Stiles may have been a kid, but even he knew that those weren't words that most people used in casual conversation.

Once again, he knew the sensible thing would have been to go to the sheriff's station for help, but no one was going to listen to him without proof. There _was_ no proof--other than Stiles's gut--that the creepy psychopath was going to do anything at all.

Of course, Stiles was definitely smart enough not to mention that he suspected the Hales were werewolves. Really. His first thought had been vampires, after he and Scott managed to watch _Interview with a Vampire_ one night, but he had discarded that idea pretty quickly, mostly because they always seemed to be outside. Plus, they always found lost people first, they were always the best at sports, and, honestly, did they think that no one could hear the howling very close to their house, even though wolves had been extinct in California for decades?

If Gerard Argent's phone call was about killing wolves, and the Hales were werewolves, then Stiles didn't think it was too much of a leap in logic to assume that the guy was after the Hales.

(It could also explain all of the gunshots and howling that haunted his nightmares, but he’d deal with that another time.)

Not that Stiles was going to mention those to anyone; people would think he was sick like his mom had been and give him even more depressing looks than they had been already. Besides, being a mythical creature was probably something that most people wanted to keep quiet, and Stiles knew how to keep a secret.

The good news for the moment was that Stiles didn't feel floaty and weird like he did right before something bad was going to happen, so he had at least a little more time to figure things out.

His first step? Making friends with as many werewolves as possible. There always seemed to be a potential werewolf wherever Stiles happened to be, so the hardest part was getting their attention long enough to strike up real conversations.

(Also, considering that they seemed to travel in groups, that goal was a lot more intimidating than Stiles had expected it to be. It wouldn't stop him, but still, it was like they traveled in packs or something.)

<> <>

Naturally, the first time Stiles got the chance to speak to someone alone, he looked like a demented squirrel, sitting at the diner’s counter with his cheeks stuffed full of Mona’s pancakes. Stiles considered himself lucky that the sight of the mountain folding into the seat next to him didn't make him choke on his breakfast.

Ennis was a big man that looked like he could bench press a bus on a good day, but he had a shaved head like Stiles and he didn't grunt or roll his eyes when Stiles tried to talk to him, so Stiles decided that the quiet man should be his werewolf confidant.

“Did you know that the Russian cosmonauts used to carry guns as part of their survival kits for when they reentered Earth’s atmosphere because they tended to land in weird places and needed to survive until somebody found them?”

Ennis shot him a look that was curious rather than irritated, so Stiles pushed ahead.

“They also had things like a fishing kit, wool gloves, a strobe light and a machete,” he expanded, “so I guess they were prepared in case any bears or wolves or crazy old guys tried to kill them.”

The older man quirked a brow at him. “It's a good thing we don't live in Russia, then.”

“It's not like I want to be an astronaut or anything, but it's pretty interesting. You would think that going to space would be the dangerous part.” He took another bite of pancake and reached over to steal the man’s untouched water, much to Ennis’s amusement. “I mean, my dad's a deputy, and he taught me to be prepared, but it's weird to think that people that look one way might turn out to be completely different.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you're an interesting young man?”

Stiles shrugged. “Most people use the term ‘annoying’, actually.”

Rather than try to correct Stiles, the man chose to stuff his face with pancakes, turning to the young boy with puffed cheeks and a smile. “How old are you?” he finally asked.

“Nine.”

“Hmm. Are you friends with Cora Hale?” he asked curiously.

“Not really. She’s pretty cool, but we don't have much in common.”

“Common is overrated.”

“Ennis, introduce me to your young friend.” A blonde man with a British accent came over and sat next to Ennis, before giving both of them a companionable smile.

“This is Stiles. He’s been telling me about the potential dangers of Beacon Hills.”

“Has he now?” The man gave him a searching look that Stiles wasn't used to being on the receiving end of. “Are you one of the town's protectors?”

It was an odd sort of question, and obviously Ennis agreed, based on the look he was sending the other man.

Stiles shrugged again. “I do what I can,” he said.

<> <>

Over the next few days, Stiles had as many conversations as he could with assumed werewolves and the one guy he managed to corner that came to town with Mr. Argent.

After that, most of the werewolves in town started watching him with an unnerving intensity that even Scott eventually noticed. Fortunately for Stiles, his friend was still too wrapped up his his own problems to get dragged into Stiles’s, which--assuming Stiles was right about the werewolf thing--was a good thing.

As many random human-werewolf interactions as Stiles managed to have, though, he still hadn't figured out how to warn everyone about the dangers of Gerard Argent.

He had nearly had a panic attack during his weekend breakfast with Ennis and Laura Hale when Argent had walked into Mona’s and moved toward the counter where the three of them were sitting. Ignoring his new friends’ looks of concern, Stiles had slapped money on the counter and practically run out of the diner, nearly running the hunter over in the process and shuddering visibly when he accidentally brushed up against the man’s gun. He knew that everyone--even Mona--noticed his reaction, but the overwhelming dread was just too strong to ignore.

As soon as he got home, he locked himself in his room and tried to go through every possible option from for telling everyone the bad news, including leaving a note on someone's windshield. He’d even written a draft. Unfortunately,

_Dear Hales (and people pretending to be Hales),  
Gerard Argent is evil and wants to kill you. He wants to kill his friends, too. Beware of guns and fire._

was not going to cut it. Ennis and Duke and everyone else treated him like a kid brother, which was nice, but didn't mean that any of them were going to take him seriously. Really. He had thrown fries at Duke all through lunch yesterday, and the man hadn't once asked him to stop. He’d made a few annoyed faces, literally snatched the fries from the air, but that was it.

Stiles was torn between joy and frustration.

Meanwhile, his dreams had ramped up to the point that his dad had noticed the dark circles under his eyes, and even Cora had looked concerned when he ran into her and her mother at the grocery store. Only the fact that blurting everything out seemed like an increasingly good idea (and he had actually opened his mouth to do that once, to two of the random Hales passing him on the sidewalk) warned Stiles that maybe he was running out of both time and options.

Naturally, that was the point when Stiles ran out of luck.

<> <>

It said something about Stiles that his first thought as the car clipped his bike was, “My dad doesn't deserve this” before he was hitting the ground with a dull thud. His last thought--before everything went black--was surprise that Argent was mad enough to hit him with his super-nice car in the first place.

<> <>

The news that Deputy Stilinski's son had been seriously injured in a hit-and-run reached Ennis the next morning when he stepped into the diner for breakfast and Mona promptly burst into tears. He hadn't even managed to sit down before the distraught woman was telling him about Stiles, and he barely managed a terse “thanks” before running out the door.

It occurred to him on the way to the hospital that he had no right to see the boy, barely knew him, and yet he drove with no intention of leaving before he saw Stiles.

The room was empty except for Stiles and his father, who blatantly scrutinized the werewolf standing in the doorway to his son's hospital room.

“Mr. Ennis, right? In town for the Hale reunion?” At the wolf's look, the man shrugged and gave a wet chuckle. “I'm pretty sure gossip travels faster than light around here.”

“Will you catch the driver?”

Deputy Stilinski sighed. “I can't be involved in the investigation, but it happened in a residential area, so there won't be cameras--”

Ennis just barely kept from baring his teeth at the man. “There must be something you can do.”

“If Stiles wakes up--” the man began, fumbling over his words, “hopefully he will be able to tell us something.”

“And if he can't?”

“He will.”

Stiles's father ran a hand over his face, a move the werewolf had seen the boy make when he was apprehensive, and Ennis forced himself to calm down. “Is there anything I can do for you? You should get some rest.”

It was like Ennis was literally watching the deputy build himself up again.

“I'll be alright,” he said, after a moment. “I was just going to run home and get Stiles’s pillow. He doesn't like to sleep without it,” the man said thickly, but he made no move to leave.

“I could stay with him if you like,” the werewolf offered, “or...I could go get the pillow myself,” he finished awkwardly, unsure of why he had offered in the first place.

The deputy seemed as surprised to receive the offer as Ennis had been to give it, but his desire to stay with his son obviously trumped any misgivings he might have, because it took the man less than five minutes to give him directions to the Stilinski home.

<> <>

Stiles's bedroom was a study in contradictions. It was decorated with posters and toys and superhero sheets, but it was packed with papers and books that seemed too advanced for the kid. Curious, the man picked up the stack of books on the nightstand, only to realize that they were all on the same subject: werewolves.

Unbidden, Ennis felt a smile creep onto his face. It probably wasn't the right response for the situation, but he couldn't help but feel a little proud of Stiles. How had the kid figured it out?

It wasn't important at the moment, the wolf admonished himself, and grabbed the boy's pillow to take back to the hospital. He frowned as a piece of paper fell out of the pillowcase and onto the bed, expecting to find a love letter or a wish list of some kind, not a letter warning the Hales about Gerard Argent.

It was similar to what Ennis assumed getting hit by lightning was like: a sudden onslaught of recognition that left him on his knees, clutching the boy’s pillow and struggling to catch his breath.

 _Stiles had tried to tell them_. He had approached them, justifiably afraid, and had tried to tell them. Almost every conversation that he had had with Stiles had subtly mentioned weapons, hunting, or wolves.

Now that he thought about it, Stiles had also tried to befriend most of the hunters as well and, Ennis suspected, offered them the same warnings.

He thought of the boy that had stolen his water on the first day, and how quickly that they all had accepted him.

The boy that was likely injured because of them. For them.

Pillow in hand, the werewolf stepped out of the house, threw back his head, and howled.

<> <>

It was easier than Ennis expected to convince everyone--including the hunters--of Gerard’s intention to harm the packs. He was careful not to mention Stiles, or bring attention to Stiles's involvement in his discovery, and if he attacked Gerard with a little more relish than normal when they found him, no one knew enough to say anything about it.

In the end, only one person fell to Gerard's plan--a young hunter in the wrong place at the wrong time--and the eldest Argent was dispatched with little fanfare.

<> <>

When Stiles opened his eyes two days later, he had two visitors: his father, and Ennis.

“Hey, you’re okay,” was the first thing he said when he saw the wolf.

“So are you.”

Ennis waited for Stiles's father to step out to talk about werewolves and hunters. Ennis told Stiles about being an alpha, and Stiles shared his jello and told Ennis about his dreams.

They both decided to keep Stiles's knowledge of werewolves a secret for both his and his father's protection, but the werewolf quietly checked in on Stiles many times over the next few years.

And then Scott McCall was bitten by a werewolf.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the poem "We never know how high we are” by Emily Dickinson.
> 
> We never know how high we are  
> Till we are called to rise;  
> And then, if we are true to plan,  
> Our statures touch the skies.
> 
> Next week: Chapters 7-8 of "in perfect light" and another Peter/Stiles fic.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!


End file.
